“The ‘_Usnea Humana_’[12] described as a moss two lines long, grown on the skulls of malefactors who have been a long time exposed to the air. This little plant is found chiefly in England and Ireland, where the bodies of men are left hanging in chains for many years after their execution. It is of a volatile astringent nature, good for bleeding of the nose, and of use internally for epilepsy.” The writer adds, “I have seen in the apothecaries’ shops in London these skulls exposed with the Usnea upon them.” Then again we have a whole tribe of “holy remedies” and cabalistic charms, &c. ----- Footnote 12: Corroborative evidence of the esteem in which this remedy was held will be found in Macaulay’s account of the death scene of Charles II.:—“All the medical men of note in London were summoned. Several of the prescriptions have been preserved; one of them is signed by fourteen doctors. The patient was bled largely. Hot iron was applied to his head. A loathsome volatile salt, _extracted from human skulls_, was forced into his mouth.” [This volatile salt is thus described in the Dictionares des Drogues: Amsterdam, 1716. “L’Usnée humaine contient beaucoup de sel volatil et d’huile; elle ne bouillonne point avec les acides.”] ----- Hiera Picra and Solomon’s seal are used to this day. The charm for burns is as follows:—“In the name of, &c. There came two angels from the East, one brought fire, the other water; I command them both: out fire!! in water!! and so I say _Amen_.” This is mumbled by the charmer, and the sufferer is relieved without daring to doubt, for if he _doubts_ the charm is destroyed. Warts and wens are disposed of by a similar process. So much for the march of intellect; in its progress very much like the military goose step. A belief in the curative power of the Royal touch over scrofulous affections continued to be universally held so late as the time of William III. Shakespeare gives us an account of it in the tragedy of Macbeth, which I have thought worth transcribing. In the 4th Act, Scene 3rd, a room in the King, of England’s palace:— Enter a Doctor. Malcolm. Comes the king forth, I pray you? Doctor. Ay sir: There are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure. Their malady convinces The great assay of art: but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend. [Exit Doctor. Macduff. What’s the disease he means?